Contrition
by Unfocused Shot
Summary: Later, when Cobb asks him how it went, Arthur tells him to shove it.


1.

He loathes himself now.

After nearly three weeks of intensive instruction she had proven to be brilliant beyond his imagination. He'd been initially wary of the young-looking thing asleep in the warehouse.

She was perceptive and passionate once her eyes opened.

He imagines she thinks of him in fear now and it makes him ache.

"She needs to know what it's like when things go wrong so that she can stay focused." Cobb stated. "Run her through a nightmare, you'll thank me later."

"It's a mistake darling," called Eames from across the room, lowering the papers he held in front of him. "She'll not be able to look at you for days if you do it properly. And god knows you are _meticulous_."

At the moment he felt that Cobb was right. She did need to know how to keep a cool head in danger, even if the danger wasn't real. The idea of frightening her bothered him; she wasn't there to be frightened. Instead he'd prefer to let her imagination take her places that were continuously wondrous to her. She soaked up every moment of the dream and distilled the lessons therein.

Cobb was thinking long term though, or that's at least the angle he was playing. He'd mentioned quietly to Arthur that once this job was over, he would be out of the business and the team would need a new architect. Architects need to keep things under control nearly as much as point men do. There was a silent and ultimately manipulating _"do this, and you can keep her"_ laced in Cobb's tone.

Later, when Cobb asks him how it went, Arthur tells him to shove it.

Arthur tells her what he is going to show her before he even opens up the briefcase and he feels relieved when she smiles, says ok and then squeezes his hand when he fumbles with the tubes. She trusts him intrinsically.

But she is an architect, and the fear she experiences begins to overpower his construct, pushing them into a cycle of deepening terror.

His subconscious crushes her in a throng of people and he is powerless to help her. He's lost his gun by the time they have ripped her from him and begun to trample her. As he tries to push himself through the crowd he silently prays that the next blow kills her and sends her away from here.

The 5 minutes ends and he is pulled from the dream and them from his chair with her first ragged breath and sob.

"I'm sorry," he repeats over and over into her hair and after a while she quietens.

She tells him it's ok and things will be just fine. "I just need some air," she murmurs into the wet stain on his shirt. "I'll just go for a walk and everything will be all right."

She's said nothing but he truth to him before, so he half believes her and lets her walk out of the warehouse. Eames reminds him that this was all a terrible mistake and to this he retorts nothing.

But every look she gives him now is laced with a subtle hurt. Or maybe it's his imagination driving the sanity out of him. Every small, downturned corner of her lips is his fault. Or the way she pauses while working on the model of his dream, looking unsure of everything while looking at it.

She doesn't look at him and he's not sure how to atone. 

2.

Ariadne lets the door of the hotel swing behind her and steps into the lobby. She's dressed herself up today in the hopes that she doesn't seem out of place. The opulence around her makes her feel that she's misplaced and the feeling only increases when she steps into the bar of the hotel.

Ariadne decides there is nothing she can use here.

She's been going back and forth to hotels and bars in the city, looking for bits and pieces she could use. She knows if she visits many rather than just a few that the likelihood that the construct being composed of many elements is far greater. She needs this one to hold together regardless of what is happening.

She find herself in places that remind her of Arthur's dreams and wonders if she's allowed to draw on places that remind her of real people. 

3.

"Fuck!" Comes Ariadne's cry and the exacto knife she was holding falls when her hands goes to immediately cradle the other. Blood pours out from the seal she's created with her hand and dribbles onto the lobby she was designing. It's late and she forgets she is not alone until he's by her side, ushering her to the sink and first aid kit.

He handles her with a care reserved for delicate china as he disinfects and then bandages the wound. He's avoiding looking at her face and she feels as if the silence in the room could reach up and choke her.

"It wasn't your fault," She murmurs softly, and he pauses to at least direct his attention to her mouth rather than studiously concentrating on her hand.

"Not being in control of the nightmare wasn't your fault." She assures him. He stiffens and finishes bandaging her hand.

"I wasn't doing my job properly. It wasn't professional."

Ariadne sighs and reaches for his hand with her undamaged one. She can feel the muscles quickly freeze and then relax as her grip on his hand changes from delicate to reassuring.

"And I was supposed to remain calm," she tries to joke, ending with a small, self-depreciating snort.

Arthur says nothing as she leads him from the sink. They exit the warehouse and he doesn't ask where they are going with such a determined grip she has on his hand. He's too tired when she loosens his tie and does not argue when his jacket lands on a pile of her own clothes. They sleep and all is familiar and reassuring. 

4.

Arthur awakens and feels a familiar warmth and pressure on his chest. His fingers extract themselves from their familiar place on her waist and he slides them along her neck and into her hair to cradle her head.

Cobb can suck it from here on in.


End file.
